


Hallelujah

by ThatBritishBoy



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Insecurity, M/M, One Shot, Regret, Rejection, Relationship Issues, Relationship Problems, Religion, Religious Conflict, Self-Doubt, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 08:59:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8366227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatBritishBoy/pseuds/ThatBritishBoy
Summary: Based off of the song Hallelujah.Arthur comes to terms with his struggle in loving someone and realising he loves someone. Sometimes it is hard to admit how you truly feel.





	

Growing up I had heard my mother whisper words of praise. Praise to a god I suppose I never truly believed in. That was… until I meet Francis. They say that hallelujah means god be praised. But what if it was more than that. What if there was an underlying meaning to hallelujah. Perhaps god had sent him to me. Perhaps it was punishment. Perhaps it was to teach me a lesson. A lesson not to take love for granted.  
The night I almost lost him was unlike any nightmare I could’ve imagined. I should have been more careful with my words. I should have remembered what my mother once told me, that words could not be taken back once they were spoken. So of course I regretted telling him to leave. Of course I regretted throwing the dish. Of course I regretted saying I would never love him.  
It had all started over a simple argument. Nothing too major. But it had spiralled out of control too quickly. How had it even come to this? To this anger? 

It was another day of grabbing the morning paper at the local coffee shop before heading to work. The air was particularly chilly so I of course had to fetch myself a warm drink. I did not at all expect to quite literally run into an angel. His hair resembled the halos I had seen god depicted with. And it crowned his head perfectly. His eyes soft cornflower blue. His cheeks rose kissed from the cold… or perhaps it was the shock. His lips formed the most innocent o. They were the colour of cherry blossoms. Everything about him screamed beauty.  
“Bloody hell! Don’t you watch where you are going?” I snapped all too suddenly. Smooth Arthur. What a great impression you make. And then suddenly the angel before him laughed, and by god if it didn’t sound like wind chimes. “Ah I suppose I was too caught up in your beauty mon chere. I apologise.” And just like that my cheeks were red. He was French. And though I hated the French, I could easily forgive him for being so. His voice was like a choir of angels. What had this man done to be blessed by god himself? And since when did I believe in god? I blinked slowly. “Um… my apologies…. I was being quite rude.”  
And that’s how it all started. That’s how Francis became a part of my life. The biggest infatuation I’ve ever had. My personal addiction. 

“Arthur.” Francis spoke softly. He stood in the door way of my living room. All he wore was a silk robe. His hair tied back from having showered. He smelled of roses and passion. His long lashes blinked slowly as if beckoning me closer. I stood slowly as if I had no control over my own body. He led me to my bedroom… our bedroom. His skin burned mine but I enjoyed the pain. I wanted to feel more of it. Perhaps I was high off of his smell, because I don’t even remember undressing. I don’t remember laying down. And I surely don’t remember how Francis was suddenly over me, covering my body like a blanket of desire. And from my lips he drew the broken gasps of his name. “Francis… hallelujah.” 

And just as quickly as he had come into my life, he was leaving. “Who is she?!” I screamed, the retched man stood before me. How dare he plead for my forgiveness? “Wasn’t I enough Francis?!” I turned my back to him, unable to look upon the man I once believed to be an angel. He was no angel. He was a monster. “Arthur please.” It hurt just to be in his presence now. How dare he?! “Get out... Just get out.” I wish my voice hadn’t broken. I wish the tears hadn’t begun. Couldn’t I be strong enough to send him away? To be able to live without him. “Arthur…” He was holding me against his chest. And then suddenly I was sobbing and he was there. Why couldn’t I tell him to leave? Why couldn’t I just push him away? I had once lived without him… but now that felt so long ago. Had this man really changed me this much?  
“Arthur… I would never cheat on you…” He spoke softly. His hands were in my hair. His lips against my skin. And I finally gave in. I sank into his arms. Gave myself to this man once again and pled for hallelujah. He tilted my chin and our eyes meet once again. His eyes burned with tender devotedness. And I believed him. God did I believe him. After all… what lord would make a man as perfect as Francis, and then make him a liar. What cruel fate would that have been?

Maybe there is a god above. Perhaps I deserved what he sent me. An angel that I would never be able to love. “Arthur…?” He was speaking so calmly as if he hadn’t just asked me something so raw. Something I was not prepared for. He was still on his knee. There were people looking. “Please say something…” He spoke softly.  
What had I done to deserve this fate? Perhaps I should have gone to church more often. Perhaps I should have prayed every night at the end of my bed. “Francis… Please… Please get up.” I couldn’t answer him. How could he expect me to? I wasn’t ready. Did I love him? Was this love? Or was it simple infatuation. Why had god cursed me with the inability to love, and then given me an angel? I took a step back from him fear coursing through my body. Tears were on my cheeks. When had I began crying? “I’m sorry.” And just like that I sprinted. I couldn’t do this.  
We didn’t speak for weeks and when we did, it was because he was in my kitchen. He didn’t meet my eyes and I couldn’t meet his. “I apologise…” I spoke softly. “I don’t think I can…” I whispered. “Arthur… you know I love you.” I flinched at his words. Of course I knew. It was like a searing blade had been sent through my chest. I choked back a strangled cry, tears on my cheeks again. Or had they ever stopped? “Please just go.” I whispered. “Leave me to my own misery.” I looked into my mug unable to even look at his feet. “I’m not leaving you Arthur.” He moved forward and I jolted back as if he had stung me. As if his presence was physically painful. I looked up finally meeting his gaze. He was so worried, and I, I must have looked like some crazed animal. “No. You don’t understand Francis. I can’t…” He grabbed my wrist and I cried out. “Yes you can Arthur. What are you afraid of?” I looked up at him the mug in my grasp slipped and crashed on the floor, but my ears were numb. I didn’t even feel the burning tea on my feet. “I can’t…” I whispered. “I don’t love you.” I finally whispered. And god… if angels could die… I watched one do just that. Dejection was written all over Francis’ face. I prayed then to take back the words. To plead to god to erase them from existing, because in that moment I finally realised… I loved him.  
God plays cruel tricks on people. He sends them angels in disguise and then in the last moment…. Finally allows you to love them. But only once it’s too late. And no matter how much praying you do. No matter how many times you kneel at church. You can’t get him back. No matter how many times you lament… nothing changes. 

“Arthur?” I froze. My eyes glued to the cross above my head. God really was cruel. Now here in sanctuary, he was sending me the voice of an angel. My angel. “Arthur is that really you?” I turned slowly only to see Francis. He was dressed in white. My eyes widened in awe and perhaps even horror. He really was an angel. “It is.” And he smiled. By god he smiled. And it was the most inspiring and crushing thing I had experienced in my life. I looked back to the cross behind me. Slowly I stood but he was already before me.  
Time had done him well. Laugh lines highlighted the best parts of his face. His hair was as vibrant as it always had been. In the church light it glowed just like that first day. Just like a halo. “Francis…” I whispered. And then he was there, holding me. In five years, his hold hadn’t changed. “I thought I would never see you again.” He whispered against my hair. I was crying again. By god this man made me emotional. “Yeah… me too.” His hands were gentle his lips soft against mine. “I miss you my love.” He whispered his hands holding my face. I laughed but it was interrupted by a cry of anguish. “I love you.” I spoke holding him just as tightly. He laughed, it was broken, but happy. “Hallelujah.” He whispered.


End file.
